(A/N: Yeah, I know. Strife tends to see-saw back and forth on mood/attitude. That'll get explained later on. I promise. Otherwise, can't think of anything else to add at this time.)

06

"Road to Nowhere."
EW 24+ (cont.)

Unlike most Angels, Mikeal didn't mind walking. It gave him a better perspective on his surroundings and allowed him to spot possible ambush locations that couldn't be seen from the air. Upon leaving the Twilight Brigade camp, he pointed out the location of other mercenary companies that was trustworthy enough to not sell out at the first sign of trouble. And those that would kill at the slightest provocation. There was even a small group of Angels with accompanying Guardians stationed in the area. He also pointed out the fortifications the humans had erected.

"How good are they?" Strife asked with a slight nod of his head in the directions of the wall with its roving armed guards.

Mikeal glanced up to where Strife indicated. "There's always room for improvement."

"Hmm…" The gunner shifted the bag to his other shoulder as he openly studied the weapons mounted upon the wall and the humans manning them.

The Fallen let out a laugh. "Do not fear Horseman, for they are no match for you in your chosen field of battle." He clapped his hand on the Horseman's shoulder then made a gesture towards an open gate.

The part of the compound Mikeal took Strife to was designated as 'neutral' ground. A place where Human, Angels, Fallen and Demon mingled. The later three with open hostility, while the former with anything from awe and reverence to pure hatred for one or both sides of the conflict. Fights were common between the demons and the angels (Fallen or not), but were quickly moved to the areas assigned for such things. Rare was the fight between a human and a Demon or a Fallen. Angels were barred from fighting and openly ridiculed for it. Rarer still, was for the human to win the fight, though they were never killed outright, they almost always died from the injuries. They were just so fragile.

When they reached the gate, Mikeal pulled two small medallions from his belt and showed it to the guards on duty. After few words and several gestures, they were pointed towards one of the structures off to one side of the roadway.

"What was that about?" Strife asked, still following Mikeal even as he studied the area for ambushes and traps. His free hand resting on Mercy's grip, in a not so subtle warning that he was more than willing to deal with any problems in his own way.

The Fallen shrugged, wings arcing above his head before resettling against his back. "In order to get you what you asked for, I had to make a deal with the supply officer. She wanted to see you for herself and possible make you an offer."

"And why would she want to make me an offer?" the Horseman asked, his tone holding promise of retaliation should anything not to his liking happen.

Mikeal stopped and turned to face the gunner. "I told her you were a former balance keeper turned freelance mercenary. It was as close to the truth I could tell her without revealing too much of what little I do know." He crossed his arms over his chest as he tilted his head to one side. "Even with physical proof that Angels and Demons exist, they still have a hard time believing. Even after more than two decades of us tearing their world apart. Besides, my youngest -Ezra- is part of the group sent as representatives from one of the White City's outposts. This way I can at least see him on a somewhat regular basis even though it makes him angry as can be that I'm alive and doing well."

Narrowed eyes relaxed as Strife took his thumb off Mercy's hammer. "That's devious. What's your presence got to do with his feathers being so ruffled?"

Mikeal uncrossed his arms, wings dropping slightly as he untensed. "Still blames me for the death of my eldest, his brother."

Strife motioned with his hand for them to start moving again. "What happened?"

"You're brother happened."

"Which one?"

"War."

"That.. sounds about right for him. Death will at least try to be diplomatic before he starts slaughtering whomever is blocking his path," Strife pointed out.

Mikeal shook his head. "Ezra claims I let Aiden be assigned to the Hellguard battalion that was guarding Abaddon's secret project just to spite his mother."

"I remember when that happened. For a few centuries after that, we were still getting nasty looks when dealing with the White City," Strife commented. It happened right around the time someone had found one of the Grand Abominations that had been created by the Nephilim Firstborn at the beginning of their rampage across creation. It forced his elder brother, Death, into informing him and his siblings about the Grand Abominations.

Mikeal went on, "It was clear as the light of the Creator, that boy wasn't a soldier and didn't belong there. Had no heart for it, like his glory seeking younger siblings. His mother wouldn't hear a word of it and insisted he go into the Guard when I argued for him going to the Scholars." He let out a sigh and shook his head again. "I put the blame squarely on his mother, her hide-bound ways and Abaddon thinking he could hide things from the Charred Council or their enforcers. Here we are. Just give this to the human female with the yellow hair," he handed one of the medallion's to Strife before walking away. "Good Luck Horseman and I hope we're still on the same side next time our paths cross," he said as he departed.

"Thanks… I think…" he muttered as he examined the medallion. One side had the symbol of the Twilight Brigade, the other the symbol for Mankind and around the rim was angelic script citing Mikeal's name, rank and the name of the campaign. He flipped into the medallion in the air then caught it as he headed to the open doorway of the structure. He paused right in the doorway, taking everything in.

The structure had no roof, just several different colored fabrics stretched across the far side to provide partial shade. Guards roamed the upper part of the structure, watching both inside and out. Under the canopy, sat a handful of people. All but one of them was human and sitting on the cloth covered ground. The one non-human was a scholarly looking young angel perched on a stool off to one side. The humans were a mixed lot: all but one were swarthy complected with crow dark hair, gender was evenly split and clothing was a mix as well.

Strife spotted the yellow haired female instantly, kind of hard not to since she was sitting several paces forward and dead center of the group. But he could tell she wasn't the leader. Setting the duffle down just inside the door, he crossed the space then dropped to a crouch in front of a young looking human male and nodded respectfully. Turning slightly he nodded to the battle scared older male sitting to the right. (See? He could be diplomatic, polite and charming when he wanted to be instead of an asshole he normally is.)

When the young male started speaking, the angel did the translating. Occasionally the older male would add to what was said, but otherwise everyone else was quiet. Strife would in turn, respond when and where appropriate. What he got out of it all was; the young man was the ruler of the area, the older male was the father and military leader, he was to play nice with everyone, to obey the laws and if he couldn't do that, to either leave quickly and quietly or face the consequences. Any assistance in day to day issues like guarding the farmers as they work, hunting (food or problematic demons/wildlife) and/or clearing the old city would be greatly appreciated and rewarded. Now, what is your business and how long are you staying? Thank you for visiting, come back again, have a nice day.

Strife took a few moments to come up with the right words that wouldn't give away anything at the same time. "Let him know I'm here to hunt down and capture a group of rogue beings that have, so far, escape punishment. Once I am sure none are within his lands, I continue my hunt elsewhere." He was smiling pleasantly as he cut his eyes to the side and looked directly at the angel. "Do you know who I am? If not then I'm sure you'll be told soon enough. There's no need for that information to be spread about just yet and if it does, I know who blame if it does." And implied threat was sometimes even better at keeping someone in line than an actual threat. "Now smile nicely and laugh as if I told you an amusing little ditty. Got that? Good." He let out a laugh then turned to the young male and made an apologetic gesture as if he momentarily forgot to whom he was speaking. A few minutes was spent in idle chit-chat while expertly evading answering anything about himself before the young male up and left with his entourage without saying so much as a goodbye. He stayed crouched for a little while longer as he listened to the guards leave. When only the sounds was of the wind rustling the fabric and life outside the structure walls was left, he finally stood up and stretched. "Well that could have gone better," he muttered to himself as he gathered up his bag and departed.

"It could also have gone much worse," someone said. In the dead language of the Nephilim.